Poetry and Wine While We Are Young

Yun Shuhe's left hand flowed with Black and White Light as he tried to extract Shang Yi's memories.

Sword Madman's Primordial Spirit reassembled, then shattered again. He knew his odds were grim; if no miracle occurred today, he would certainly die. He had once looked down upon the immortal path from high above, and he would never allow himself to be miserably searched through at the level of his Primordial Spirit.

With a bang, he directly self-destructed. To him, having the secrets of his Primordial Spirit seized was the greatest humiliation. He had once been invincible beneath heaven for a time—how could he allow someone to search his soul?

"Hm?" In the distance, Wang Xuan had been watching closely. He discovered that Shang Yi was not dead. A bloodstained talisman paper re-condensed him, reviving him on the spot.

Wang Xuan held the Dao Control Banner, glaring like a tiger watching its prey from the side, ready to deliver another blow at any moment. There was absolutely no chance he would let this man escape.

Clearly, Yun Shuhe noticed immediately. He too would never allow Shang Yi to flee alive. In his eyes, Shang Yi had long been a dead man, to be used as an offering for old friends.

In fact, Sword Madman had never intended to flee at all. He knew he could not escape. Rather than run away in disgrace and be hunted down like a dog, he might as well perish magnificently and cleanly.

"Yun Shuhe, I cannot be killed. In the future, I will surely descend upon this world again. One day, a stronger me—a flawless Dao body without defects, perfect in every aspect—will come before you and settle this with you!"

Shang Yi spoke as though resonating with another self somewhere in the unseen, and